


I Bloom For You

by Lostinfantasies38



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Bisexual Evan Hansen, Connor Deserves Happiness, Evan Hansen Deserves Happiness, Flower AU, Flowers, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Protective Connor, Romance, So many flowers, Soft Boys, Standard warnings for DEH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:01:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28492068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lostinfantasies38/pseuds/Lostinfantasies38
Summary: Everyone has a soulmate. The flowers start sprouting across your body in childhood whenever they are injured. Too bad they don't tell you who they are or give any fucking clues in how to find them. Too bad the existence of someone most people never find isn't enough to keep either of them hopeful for their future...until one day, it is.
Relationships: Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy, Jared Kleinman/Zoe Murphy
Comments: 16
Kudos: 80





	I Bloom For You

**Author's Note:**

> List of flower meanings in the end notes, if you want to follow along during the story.

The first time Connor noticed the flowers he was five. Sunlight filtered through the foliage as he spun mindlessly on the backyard tire swing. Leaning half out of the old rubber, arms outstretched by his head, he giggled happily in the summer afternoon. Closing his eyes, he listened to the hiss of the sprinklers next door and wondered idly if he should ask his mom to set up the slip ‘n slide.

A strange prickle from his knees caught his attention, and he reached through the swing to swat away whatever insect was crawling on him. The touch of something unexpected momentarily sped up his heart rate, and he rushed to sit up ignoring the dizziness from the sudden blood loss from his head.

Blinking in fascination at the spray of bright pink flowers decorating his knobby knees, he stopped short of touching them in case they blew away in the faint breeze. Tiny hyacinths, like the ones his mom grew in her garden, but these were a hundred times prettier than her blue ones.

These were _his_.

Careful not to disturb them, he slid out of the swing and ran inside to show Zoe his special flowers. He smiled when he found her in the living room coloring in her princess coloring book, tongue poking out in concentration as she tried to stay in the lines. Gingerly sitting beside her on the floor, he showed off his miniature bouquet, reveling in her excited clapping and high-pitched squealing.

“They are beautiful,” she exclaimed, leaning so close to examine them her eyes crossed.

Preening at the praise, Connor’s smile widened. “I’m going to keep them forever.”

Nodding seriously, Zoe said, “You should.”

The ruckus garnered their mother’s attention, and she joined them with a smile, drying her hands with a kitchen towel. Noticing Connor’s knees as Zoe gently stroked a flower, Cynthia’s expression softened as she settled on the love seat.

“Do you know what those mean, Connor?” she asked kindly.

Shaking his head, he said, “No, but I know they’re mine.”

She hummed in agreement. “That is true, but they won’t stay.” Connor frowned at the unwelcome news and crossed his arms petulantly.

“Why not? I want them to. They’re pretty.”

Clearing her throat to smother her laughter, Cynthia said, “They are lovely, sweetie, but it’s not in their nature to stay forever. You know about soulmates, right?” Connor nodded slowly; soulmates were mentioned in passing at school. “Well,” she continued, “anytime your soulmate gets hurt, flowers will grow in that place. You can brush them off anytime or they’ll fall off on their own in a few hours.”

“Oh,” Connor murmured sadly. He didn’t want them to disappear. They came from his “special person” — the one meant just for him. He didn’t want them to fall off, but the longer he thought about what his mother said, the more something else bothered him.

Biting his lip, he hesitantly asked, “So, if my soulmate is hurt, how do I find them and help them?”

Cynthia smiled wistfully. “Finding your soulmate isn’t easy. They could be anywhere in the world. Our flowers only tell us we have someone, but not who they are or how to find them.”

Connor’s heart sank. He wanted to know the person responsible for the blossoms on his skin. He wanted to make them feel better with Oreos and his favorite Spiderman blanket he cuddled under when he was sick. He wanted to thank them for the flowers, even though it meant they were in pain. Maybe a hug would take it away? His mom’s hugs always made Connor happy.

Scooting to the edge of the settee, Cynthia cupped his face with a warm smile. “Oh my sweet boy, I wouldn’t worry too much about your soulmate. It looks like a case of skinned knees to me. I’m sure their mother is taking care of them right now.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, staring at his knees and thumbing a petal tenderly. It was so thin he could feel his heartbeat through it.

“Come on,” she said as she stood. “How about I make chocolate milk for you both?”

Zoe popped up with a shrill scream and raced into the kitchen ahead of their mother, leaving Connor alone with a secretive smile and butterflies in his chest.

* * *

Evan chuckled under his breath when the prickly sensation in his palms announced the arrival of a field of purple crocus. The sheer multitude of flowers that bloomed frequently on his body meant his soulmate was either very athletic or very clumsy.

He stared at the half-finished cursive practice sheet, but he didn’t dare pick up his pencil and knock loose the flowers. The joy that coursed through him every time they appeared wouldn’t allow him to damage them, even accidentally. He knew his soulmate was probably hissing from the sting of scraping their hands, but despite the twinge of guilt for their pain, he couldn’t deny they were pretty.

Not for the first time in the two years since making their appearance, Evan wondered what the mysterious person looked like. Did they have blonde hair, too? Were their eyes chocolate brown or green, like the moss that grew on the north-facing side of the tree trunks in Ellison Park? Did they live nearby or halfway around the world? Would he ever find them? Would they want him if he did?

Evan knew he wasn’t worth anyone’s time. The cost of his therapy sessions and medications were the reason his parents used to argue late at night. His issues forced his dad to pack a moving truck and leave his wife and son behind, starting over halfway across the country. His anxiety was a curse. Nothing he did to fix it worked, and deep down he was terrified he’d always be this way.

Nibbling his lip nervously, he carefully petted the delicate petals and blinked away the sting of tears scalding his eyelids. Jared said his stutter was annoying, rolling his eyes impatiently when it took Evan too long to string together a coherent sentence. Sometimes he trailed off altogether, his thoughts unfinished when he realized Jared stopped listening.

It helped that they didn’t share the same class this year. Evan could be the quiet boy in the middle of the classroom, rarely called on and overlooked by his peers. It was comforting to hide in plain sight, instead of being taunted by the one person who knew his name.

The hallway filled with the sounds of kids returning from recess and Evan’s heart sped up as his anxiety reared its head. With a mental apology, he sadly brushed off the flowers, watching them rain like confetti around his feet.

His classmates crashed through the door akin to a herd of elephants, ignoring him as the cliques broke apart and settled into their assigned seats. Refocusing on his practice sheet, Evan worked to perfect the downward slant of the lowercase “R.” Ugh, he hated this letter. It frustrated him that he couldn’t get it right.

Miss Harrison’s lilting voice dimly registered in his brain as she asked a kid in the row next to him to pass out the worksheets stacked on her desk while she checked the roll call to guarantee all the kids were present. A boy with dark hair and a mischievous grin hopped up and practically ran to the other side of the room.

From the corner of his eye, Evan noticed the printer’s power cord snaking along the floor. He opened his mouth to warn the boy, but he wasn’t quick enough. Then everything happened too fast, and it was too loud as shrill screams followed in the wake of the deafening crash. The boy cried loudly as repeated apologies fell from his lips while Miss Harrison consoled him, reassuring him she was fine.

Catching Evan’s gaze, she pulled out her laminated hall pass from her desk and waved him discreetly over. Nervously, he walked to them, consciously slowing his erratic breathing. The boy messily wiped his face and pointedly avoided eye contact with both of them. Evan bit his lip and granted him privacy by not looking at him, choosing instead to stare at the plastic shards from the top loader littering the floor.

Smiling at him, Miss Harrison whispered, “Can you walk Connor to the nurse, please?”

Nodding with more confidence than he felt, he twisted the hem of his shirt as their teacher told Connor to take a break and come back once he’d calmed down. As they slipped out of the classroom, they heard their teacher shushing the others as she swept up the broken pieces of machinery with the small brush and dustpan she kept in her desk.

The pair walked in silence, both lost in thought and drowning in guilt for different reasons. Fiddling with his shirt, Evan glanced at the boy, usually full of rambunctious energy, unsettled by his stillness. As they neared the office, the need to say something comforting and bring back his smile triumphed over his nerves.

“C-Connor?” he murmured. The boy paused mid-step and glanced hesitantly at him, suspicion flashing in his dark blue eyes. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Evan valiantly continued, “It was an a-accident. I-I saw it happen. You tripped over the cord. It’s not-not your fault, okay?”

He blew out a shaky exhale, his shoulders relaxing slightly, and it struck Evan that the boy full of jokes and vibrant laughter was scared of what he might say. The corner of Connor’s mouth twitched in a faint smile, and Evan returned it with a shy one of his own.

“Thanks, Evan,” he mumbled before yanking open the office door. Evan was half a second behind, listening in stunned amazement as Connor calmly explained to the secretary why they were there. She seemed surprised to learn it wasn’t Evan visiting the nurse, but she waved Connor to the back and excused Evan to return to class.

Nodding graciously in goodbye, Connor headed to the nurse’s room. Leaving the office, Evan took his time walking back, unable to stop the ridiculous grin steadily growing on his face.

Someone knew his name.

* * *

Music pounded in his room, the bass from his subwoofer vibrating through the floorboards. Connor smirked to himself when he remembered Zoe’s request for noise-canceling headphones for Christmas at dinner the other night, glaring at him all the while.

Let her be pissy. It wasn’t his fault she had shit taste in music. He rolled his eyes whenever she tried to one-up him, blaring Top 40 hits and musical numbers through their shared wall, singing at the top of her voice.

But right now, he was alone in the house with Avenged Sevenfold rattling the windowpanes, hunched over his sketch pad as he struggled to bring the vision in his head to life on the page. Why the hell did light and shading have to be such a pain in the ass?

Grunting in minor frustration, Connor blindly searched for his eraser, pausing in the motion of brushing aside the shredded rubber as daisies sprouted across his knuckles. His lungs clenched at the sight of star-shaped flowers carpeting his hands. White flowers usually represented innocence and purity and simply looking at them made him feel unworthy of the person fated to be his soulmate. Five years ago he’d delighted in every bloom, but now they made his stomach twist in knots.

Kids tittered nervously when he passed in the halls. The story of the printer in second grade took on mythic proportions, painting him as a vicious monster who intentionally tried to hurt his teacher. Connor didn’t bother trying to correct them, well-aware it was pointless to defend himself.

Only one other person knew the truth of the horrible day that changed his life, but he wasn’t about to drag the shy, cherubic blonde into his bullshit. He wasn’t that much of a jerk, despite his classmates’ assertions.

Unable to help himself, he plucked a flower and twirled it between his thumb and forefinger, hypnotized by the spin of the petals. He wondered if his soulmate was a kickboxer with how frequently they scuffed their knuckles and roughed up their shins. Maybe some kind of martial artist? He’d never tried sports, another disappointing character flaw, according to Larry, but if he found his soulmate maybe they could talk with his dad about stupid shit, like batting averages and which clubs were best for long drives on the golf course.

Yeah, right. As if a person in any way connected to him would ever be good enough for Larry Murphy’s impossible standards. Scoffing to himself, Connor crushed the blossom in his fist, ignoring the sweet fragrance it released and buried his guilt under his apathetic facade.

Soulmates were stupid, anyway. It’s not like he’d ever find them in a world of seven billion people. His parent’s never found theirs, which explained everything about their dysfunctional marriage and proved why he didn’t plan on tying himself to anyone. Relationships ended in disaster, so he decided then and there to never have one.

Clearing the field of flowers tersely, he crumpled them in his hand and threw them in the trash. He wouldn’t be dumb enough to care about some nameless, faceless idiot again.

The front door slammed, and he rushed to slide his sketchbook under the bed and grabbed the remote for his stereo, switching the song to _Hail to the King_ as Larry’s angry footsteps climbed the stairs.

“Connor! Turn down the music! No one wants to listen to your pre-teen angst.”

Jumping on the bed in a rush of reckless adrenaline, Connor yelled, “Sorry! Can’t hear you!”

The door flew open under Larry’s heavy hand, revealing the man of the hour seething at Connor’s flippancy. “Turn the music down. NOW.” The chorus blared in the background.

_Hail to the King, Hail to the one, Kneel to the crown!_

He stopped bouncing on the mattress with a haughty smirk and bowed mockingly. “Yes, Your Majesty,” Connor quipped, peering at him from under his lashes.

Larry’s nostrils flared and his neck flushed in aggravation, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Slamming the door, his loud footsteps faded as he returned to the main level. Most likely to pour himself three fingers’ worth of bourbon and fume about his pathetic excuse of a son.

Flopping back on the bed, Connor lowered the volume and covered his mouth with his hands to stifle his hysterical laughter. If he didn’t acknowledge the tears streaming across his cheeks, he could pretend they didn’t exist.

* * *

Shoving his laptop aside with a sigh, Evan stood and stretched, groaning in satisfaction as his vertebrae realigned after hours spent hunched over homework. Eighth grade was kicking his ass. The teachers were preparing them for high school next year, but did they have to overload them? As soon as he finished one essay, another was assigned in a different class, and group projects left Evan doing most of the work so his grades wouldn’t suffer because of his slacking peers.

His stomach rumbled in the silent house, and he weighed his options. His mom left money for takeout, but he didn’t feel like dealing with the delivery driver at the door. Cereal and sandwiches sounded equally unappetizing. He needed to eat something, though, because he hadn’t eaten since last night. Or was it breakfast yesterday?

Shit, he couldn’t remember.

Wait! There were power bars in his bag. Digging through the folders and crumpled papers, his fingers found the crinkly wrapper of an energy bar. Pulling it out with a triumphant “aha!” he gnawed on it mindlessly to appease his hunger. Who needed pizza when he had peanut butter and chocolate chip protein bars?

Wiping the crumbs off his shirt and throwing away his trash, Evan despondently poked the small roll of fat folding over his waistband when he sat down. Gross. He was gross. Pudgy and short with bouts of acne that always cropped up at the worst times. Of course, everyone in his class was going through an awkward stage, his brain reasoned. Half of them were sporting braces, for God’s sake, but he was the only one wearing clothes chosen by his mother.

Money was too tight to afford a sense of style. Hell, Evan didn’t even know how to go about finding one after six years of khakis and polos. If he had a friend he trusted, he’d ask for advice, but there wasn’t anyone. Anxiously tapping his fingers on his knees, he wondered if he could pull off the all-black style Connor recently adopted, though he instantly dismissed the idea.

No way. He wasn’t cool enough or built to squeeze into jeans that snug. Blushing furiously, he shook his head to clear the images running rampant in his hormonal brain.

Checking the time, he huffed as his clock flashed 8:30 in obnoxious green. Rolling off his bed, he plodded to the bathroom and quickly brushed his teeth in between shedding his clothes. Evan wrinkled his nose in distaste when he glimpsed his reflection. Nope, it was best not to look. Avoiding the mirror, he turned on the shower and absentmindedly scratched his forearms, halting when something brushed his fingers.

His stomach bottomed out, and he broke into a cold sweat before his eyes dipped to confirm his worst fear. Choking back an anguished sob, Evan stared in horror at the jagged lines of marigolds sprouting from his skin in a sick mockery of his soulmate’s pain.

It had been years since Evan saw more than a single petunia on the pad of a thumb from a paper cut or a blue ranunculus unfurling on his hip or thigh after they bumped into something.

God, he’d been so selfish! Too focused on his stupid issues to consider his soulmate’s frame of mind. That he couldn’t have done anything to help didn’t matter right now. It was the _principle_ of never thinking about the person who was the other half of his soul that rankled. But with the evidence of his perfect partner’s sorrow staring him in the face, accusing him of not caring, staggering grief threatened to return his meager dinner to him.

What triggered it? Were they bullied or abused? Did they lose a family member or move halfway across the country and leave everything they loved behind?

Evan hadn’t felt so helpless since his dad left. He wished he could hold them and offer his support, modest though it might be. It wouldn’t be more than hugs and gentle words of comfort over a mug of chamomile tea, but even that was better than carving their skin.

But he couldn’t do a damn thing, except watch the flowers blanket his arms like a human garden of despair.

Swallowing thickly in rapid succession to keep the bile from traveling too far, Evan slipped into the shower. Curling into a ball, the static of the water muffled his sobs as orange petals twirled around the drain in a macabre dance of death.

* * *

Sucking on the burned down blunt, Connor inhaled deeply and savored the last hit, exhaling with a contented hum as he stubbed out the nub on his windowsill. Jesus, it had been too fucking long since his dealer had good shit. The loose limb floaty feeling cycling through his body and silencing his mind was better than sex.

Reaching behind his head, he gently unwound the hair tie at the nape of his neck so he could sprawl comfortably on his bed. He started growing it out over the summer to piss off Larry, but quickly realized he dug the edgy vibe and kept it. Now it was shoulder-length, tumbling in soft waves when he bothered to condition it.

Smirking in the afternoon light, he made a mental note to put more effort into styling his hair so he wouldn’t resemble a vagabond. He snorted in derision as soon as the thought crossed his mind. He’d forget all about his grandiose plans for his hair when the high wore off, but for the time being, he could entertain the idea of giving an actual fuck.

Shaking out his tresses with his fingers, he tugged on the strands slightly to ease the tightness of his scalp, which lit up his nerves like a fucking Christmas tree. Mmm, okay, now his brain was thinking about sex and reconsidering the idea that getting high was better. While being blazed out of his goddamn mind was awesome, since it was literally the only thing that shut up the internal voices that called him worthless, sex was _damn good_. If you had the right partner, of course. He’d had a few that weren’t so stellar, but whatever, you couldn’t win them all.

Smacking his lips together, Connor wrinkled his nose unhappily when he realized how dry his mouth was. Ugh. Time to go raid the kitchen and satisfy his sudden case of the munchies.

Stumbling off the bed with an amused giggle, he rushed downstairs snatching the tortilla chips and salsa, a jar of peanut butter and a spoon, and one of Cynthia’s flavored waters since she banned soda from the house. He avoided the brownies on the counter trying to tempt him from their pretty arrangement on the serving platter. He knew from experience they were vegan, and Connor was not about that life. Real chocolate only or get the fuck out was a motto he adamantly upheld.

Safely tucked away in his room with his contraband, Connor tore into the salty chips and salsa first, despite his mouth being drier than Death Valley. He merrily crunched his way through the entire bag during his first rerun of The Office. The show was infinitely more enjoyable when stoned, he’d discovered.

Cracking open the water, he drank deeply and moved to the peanut butter. Jamming the spoon into the thick spread, he chuckled wickedly as Zoe’s inevitably ticked off reaction over his double-dipping played out in his head.

 _Oh well, sucks to be you_ , he mentally sing-songed.

Polishing off his snacks in record time, he yawned and sighed in disappointment. His high was wearing off already. Damn it. Well, if he had to be sober, he would not be fucking sleep deprived.

Taking the opportunity the relaxing drug afforded him, he cleared off his bed and burrowed under the covers for a nap. God knows he needed it. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept through the night. And with school right around the corner, he didn’t want to be testier than usual because he couldn’t power off his bastard brain. Right now, though, the weed kept his intrusive thoughts and subconscious self-sabotage at bay, allowing him to drop into a dreamless sleep.

It could have been moments or hours when he startled awake with an angry hiss of pain. A cold sweat plastered his clothes uncomfortably to his skin, and his heart raced in response to a sudden, unknown threat.

“What the fuck?” Connor grumbled, annoyed by the interruption of a decent nap. He shifted in the sheets and felt something graze his left arm. Stilling instantly as a jolt of fear raced along his nerves, he held his breath and very slowly peeled back the covers.

He exhaled in relief to see the flowers decorating his elbow. Thank fuck. He thought it was something important, like a goddamn spider or some shit. Rolling his eyes in irritation, Connor raised his free hand to brush them away until the distinct shape of the blooms caught his attention.

Sweet peas were easily identifiable by their butterfly shape to anyone who bothered to learn flower language, which, of course, everyone in the world did. Even assholes like him who pretended they were too good for stupid bullshit. His heart lurched violently in his throat when the meaning from years of private study slammed into him.

_Farewell._

Staring at the crimson blossoms sprouting from his arm like a long-distance suicide note, Connor felt true terror creep up his spine and paralyze his lungs. Shoving aside his childish vow to forget his soulmate, he realized without this person in the world he would lose the chance to know the only human capable of loving him without reservation.

Christ, he’d been such a selfish prick over the last four years, too. As he marred his skin with razor blades, Connor willfully ignored the manifestation of his anguish growing on their skin because of his destructive tendencies. Jesus, he hoped his own fucked up coping mechanisms weren’t responsible for this. In any other scenario, Connor might’ve believed his soulmate broke their arm accidentally, but the flowers gave them away.

Whatever caused the injury, his soulmate hadn’t expected to walk away from it.

Pounding his fist against his chest, he ignored the crush of petals under his hand as his lungs inflated enough for him to suck in a few shallow breaths. He couldn’t tear his horrified eyes from the blood-colored blooms. They taunted him as guilt settled around his shoulders like a shroud.

There was no way to be sure his soulmate survived, but he desperately needed to reach out. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t even try when they needed him most.

Glancing at his end table, he hesitated for a split second before yanking open the drawer and grabbing the blade taped to the top. He hated to break his clean streak, but goddamn it, this was more important. It didn’t have to be deep - just enough to break the skin and pray he got a reply.

Holding the razor in his left hand, Connor swiped it lightly across his right wrist. He watched the droplets collect until they were heavy enough to splash onto the dark denim and disappear. With every erratic beat of his pulse, he plummeted closer to a black hole, the void expanding in his core as his person slipped away, replacing the heat in his veins with icy dread. Floundering in space, he couldn’t escape the massive gravitational force slowly crushing him under the pressure of a dead star’s heart, growing where his used to be.

Working his jaw back and forth in agitation, the minutes ticked by like hours, and his grip on the exposed blade bordered on dangerous as he willed a flower to grow _anywhere_.

“C’mon, c’mon, please,” he hissed, voice strangled in distress.

The faintest prickle itched on his hand, and the tears he’d kept at bay escaped with a weak sob when a vibrant yellow jonquil burst into existence to banish the encroaching darkness like the fucking sun. Plucking the flower, he cradled it gently in his hands, bathing it in saltwater.

“Thank God,” he rasped, glancing at the spot where a hospital IV worked to stabilize his soulmate. Brushing the delicate petals of the resurrection bloom with the tips of his fingers, Connor smiled softly.

_Love me. Let me love you._

“Yes,” he whispered. “I’ll find you wherever you are. I swear.”

* * *

Mentally steeling himself, Evan hiked his backpack higher up his shoulder with his good arm and robotically climbed the front steps of the school building. Ducking his head, he carefully avoided eye contact with everyone he passed. He didn’t have to try too hard to be invisible, but he was determined to guarantee his anonymity after the incident three weeks ago. His paranoid brain insisted people would figure out what he did just by looking at him, so staring at the ground was safer.

With cheeks flushed in shame, he scurried down the hall to his locker. An inadvertent squeak slipped past his lips when Alana Beck cornered him. But he wasn’t able to get a word in edge-wise during their odd conversation, sparing him from accidentally blurting his secret. Shaking his head in confusion as she faded seamlessly in the milling throng, he cursed under his breath when he saw Jared waiting for him.

Smirking wickedly as Evan approached, Jared waggled his eyebrows. “You must be the first dude to break his arm from jerking it too much.” Arching his hands dramatically, Jared quipped, “Let me paint a picture: you’ve got Zoe Murphy’s Instagram pulled up —”

“Oh my God, shut the fuck up,” Evan hissed, his eyes darting wildly around to see if anyone heard the filth spewing from Jared’s mouth. Clicking his tongue in aggravation, he spun the dial on his lock.

“No, that is not what happened. I fell out of a tree during my internship,” he supplied curtly. Jared snorted derisively and Evan grit his teeth as he yanked open the door, unceremoniously dropping off his excess binders and notebooks.

“You fell out of a tree? What, like an acorn? God, you’re pathetic,” he said with a mocking laugh. “Whatever. I have news. So, there was this girl at summer camp, right?”

Evan tuned him out, humming occasionally or slightly lifting an eyebrow as though he cared about Jared’s exaggerated re-telling of camp and his supposed sexual exploits.

“But she’s going back to Israel, so...” Jared finished with a lazy shrug Evan didn’t buy for a second.

“Too bad,” he mumbled, barely refraining from rolling his eyes when Jared waved a hand dismissively.

“Nah, there are a shit ton of other girls. I’m not worried.”

“Riiiight,” Evan muttered. He opened his mouth to excuse himself when Jared’s eyes lit up and his lips curved into his signature smirk.

Jutting his chin to whatever caught his attention across the hall, Evan followed his friend’s line of sight and gasped faintly. Glowering at everyone who dared look at him, Connor Murphy strode purposefully down the hall. He’d gained another inch or two of height over the summer and towered impressively over their peers, rocking shoulder-length hair with enviable coolness.

Evan’s cheeks pinked slightly when his brain registered how good he looked. Like _damn_ good. Anyone with eyes could see Connor was hot as hell, but he didn’t need a bisexual crisis before nine o’clock in the morning.

“Hey, Connor! Love the hair. Very school shooter chic,” Jared yelled. Wilting slightly at his friend’s idiocy, Evan swallowed hard when Connor abruptly spun on his heel, pinning Jared to the floor under his furious glare.

“It was a joke,” Jared muttered feebly as Connor closed the distance between them.

His mouth curled into a sneer, eyes narrowing dangerously when he snapped. “Oh, haha. Am I not laughing hard enough for you?” Jared stumbled backward, ignoring Evan in favor of saving his hide.

“God, you’re such a freak,” he hissed before slinking away with his tail between his legs. Evan’s mouth clicked open and a hushed note of disbelief unwittingly spilled from his lips as Jared fled. Connor rounded on him as the sound reached his ears, but his mouth fell slack when he recognized him, his anger evaporating in an instant.

“Evan,” he croaked.

With his heart slamming frantically against his rib cage, Evan fell headlong into sapphire pools earnestly holding his gaze, mouth drying when he realized there was a brown splotch in Connor’s right eye; an island he desperately clung to as he fought to stay afloat. Vocal cords frozen, Evan’s mouth formed his name mutely, but the other boy avidly watched his lips shape the letters. Glancing at his plaster encased arm, he sucked in a breath to speak, but the warning bell rang, shattering whatever strange spell held them captive in the hall.

Lowering his head, Connor disappeared under his sheet of hair, stepping back on his long legs. “Don’t be late, Hansen,” he murmured, ducking around the nearest corner, leaving Evan struggling to catch his breath.

“What the hell?” Evan muttered, shaking off the residual energy shocking along his nerve endings as he headed to his first class. If only he could forget ocean eyes and a warm voice whispering his name, but there was no fucking way that was possible.

* * *

It wasn’t until second period that Connor had an epiphany. A revelation so outrageous he nearly fell out of his chair, startling him and the rest of the class. Grabbing his bag, he claimed he was going to the nurse and instead headed to the rarely used restroom on the third floor. Leaning against the wall, he pulled a pen from his bag and twirled it through his fingers as he ironed out his theory.

There was something magnetic about Evan. A sensation he remembered as a kid, but quickly forgot in the wake of bullying and poorly managed mental health issues. Despite his promise when he was younger to not pull Evan into his life, he had a soft spot for him after the compassion he’d shown him the day his image was twisted into the class psychopath. Evan never goaded him or gossiped behind his back, as far as Connor knew, which in the grand scheme of things may not seem like much, but it carried a ton of weight with him.

Then, there was the matter of the cast on his left arm. A shiver rocked along Connor’s spine when he recalled the sympathetic shock of pain; a trauma so acute it ripped him from a drug-induced nap. Evan wasn’t a target for assholes in the way Connor was, yet obscurity was just as devastating to a fragile self-esteem. He was a loner of a different sort, but living on the fringes took a toll, no matter how you got there.

It was highly improbable that out of all people in the world, his soulmate would not only attend his school but end up being the same boy he’d crushed on from afar for years. A sentiment Connor buried because the last thing sweet, anxious Evan needed was him complicating his life.

Knocking his head on the tile, he exhaled raggedly. It seemed fate may have chosen for him, though. First, however, he had to be sure he wasn’t seeing things he _wanted_ to see. He needed hard proof, and he knew how to get it.

Nodding decisively, Connor rejoined the teeming mass of humanity as the bell rang, slinking into his third period as he mapped out his next move. By the time lunch rolled around, he’d solidified the logistics of his plan. Senior privileges wouldn’t kick in until next week, and for once that suited Connor just fine. The more people filling the cafeteria, the better.

The back row of tables was still empty, and he tactically claimed the most centralized one to give himself a full view of the room. No one would think anything of it, assuming he wanted to monitor everyone and guard his space. Which admittedly he did, but not for reasons anyone could guess.

Opening his worn copy of _Crime and Punishment_ , Connor pretended to read while he waited. He didn’t have to wait long before Evan slunk into the crowded space and chose a table only a couple away. Jared quickly fell in across from him, oblivious to Evan’s aggravation as he launched into a story before the seat warmed under his ass.

Connor clamped his mouth shut to contain his laughter when Evan rolled his eyes, halting Jared’s story with clipped finger points and slashing motions, his mouth moving too quickly for Connor to lip read the impressive dressing down. Leaning across the table, Evan swiped his friend’s apple and took an aggressive bite out of it, daring him to argue with a stormy expression.

Damn. Sassy Evan was hot.

Unable to wait any longer, Connor popped in his earbuds and riffled through his bag to appear busy. Curling his fingers around his pocket knife, he opened the blade and swiped it across his right thumb before he lost his nerve. Tucking it against his palm to stanch the blood, he peered through his hair, keenly observant for a reaction. A breathless moment later, a white camellia unfurled from Evan’s corresponding thumb.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy fucking shit.

Okay, that was _definitely_ Connor and that damn flower would give him away if he wasn’t careful. Dropping his gaze, he exhaled raggedly as his stunned brain took a moment to process the information.

His soulmate was Evan Hansen.

The only person who’d ever been genuinely nice to him. The beautiful boy with kind eyes, a soft voice, and a tender heart. He’d been there the whole time, and neither of them had a goddamn clue.

This was their senior year. Everyone would be moving off to college soon, hoping to discover their soulmate in the great big world beyond high school. They almost missed each other entirely, never assuming they’d grown up with their other half.

_Jesus Christ._

Glancing surreptitiously to the other table, Connor’s stomach flipped in nervous excitement as Evan gingerly caressed the petals with a fond smile, a pretty pink staining his cheeks.

“Dude,” Jared exclaimed a little too loudly, “what if your soulmate is _here_?”

Connor cursed under his breath. Had Kleinman always been so perceptive, or did he get lucky occasionally with his bullshit brain to mouth filter? Evan shook his head, his flush deepening when he responded, but it was too quiet to carry.

Jared scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m serious, man. Calling you adorable? They have to know who you are.”

Shooting to his feet, Evan grabbed his bag and dropped the half-eaten fruit on Jared’s tray. “No, Jared. Aren’t you always telling me what a nuisance I am? No one is ever going to want me around. Even if I find my soulmate, they’ll run for the hills the minute they realize what a mess I am. Just… fucking drop it, okay?”

Grimacing slightly, Jared grabbed his good wrist. “Evan, look —”

Yanking his hand free, Evan clenched his jaw and shook his head. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it.” Slamming his backpack into Jared’s shoulder as he passed, the blonde stomped out of the cafeteria.

Well, shit. Evan did have a spine, at least with Kleinman.

Flicking his pocket knife closed, Connor checked the state of his thumb as he packed up his book and earbuds with only the slightest twinge of remorse for Jared groaning into his hands. Right now, his concern was for the boy who deluded himself into thinking no one cared about him.

Of course, he had no reason to believe anyone did. Even Connor spent years being a coward instead of seeking him out like he wanted. And whatever weird friendship existed between Kleinman and Evan, it wasn’t enough to make him feel like he mattered. Recalling the stark white cast hiding the depth of his loneliness brought to mind the memory of purple, blue, and green zinnias pooling around his feet when he removed his shirt that fateful summer day. Connor braced himself against the table as nausea threatened to send him to his knees.

Jesus fuck. He had to find Evan before he did something stupid.

Again.

Entering the hallway, the bell clanged marking the end of lunch and he swore colorfully as students scurried out of his way. Huffing angrily, Connor stalked to his next class and flopped in the back, drumming his paint chipped nails on the desk. God, he hoped Evan wouldn’t try anything while he was at school. Maybe he could track him down after this class. His skin crawled with a desperate need to reassure himself Evan was alright.

A flash of blue in the doorway caught his attention and Connor choked when the blonde in question cautiously entered, eyes flicking from the floor and scanning the room for an available seat. Their gazes met for a split second until Evan ducked his head, but the boy slid into the empty desk next to Connor and he sighed silently in relief.

“Hey,” Evan whispered, fidgeting nervously.

“Hi,” he said. Tucking his waves behind his ear, Connor flashed him a lopsided smile.

Wringing the hem of his shirt, Evan gathered his courage. “I’m sorry about what Jared said this morning. He’s an ass.”

Nodding sagely, Connor said, “Yeah, he is. You don’t need to apologize for him, though. Like, I appreciate it, but you don’t control him.”

Working his jaw back and forth slightly, Evan tensed. “No, but you deserve the apology, anyway. And he won’t give it, so I will.”

Connor blinked owlishly at Evan’s staunch sincerity. This boy couldn’t be real. Maybe he was hallucinating this entire day. But no, he wasn’t high and the sight of Evan’s rapid pulse in the hollow of his throat and the red tinting his ears proved this was actually happening. He had to remind himself to breathe normally and go slow. Evan didn’t know about their connection, and he wasn’t about to spring it on the poor guy.

“How, um, was your summer?” Evan asked.

Connor’s smile widened, revealing the hidden dimple in his right cheek, and Evan’s chest tightened. The last time he saw that smile they’d been children, which was a damn shame since it softened the aggression typically stamped on his features.

“Good. It was good,” Connor said. “But I feel like that anytime I’m not here, y’know?” His eyes twinkled and Evan chuckled, mildly surprised by Connor’s lighthearted comment.

“Same,” Evan agreed with a grin that released a flurry of butterflies in Connor’s gut. Clearing his throat, Connor opened his mouth, but the shrieking bell cut him off.

“Sonofabitch,” he muttered under his breath, pulling an involuntary snort out of Evan. Glancing at the boy, he nodded when Evan mouthed, “Later.”

Absently fiddling with a pen, Connor half-listened as their history teacher explained the syllabus for the year. It took all of his willpower to appear unaffected by Evan’s presence, but it didn’t stop his brain from spinning a hundred miles an hour. Fixated on the secret knowledge that the incredibly handsome boy was his soulmate. It made sense in a way when he thought about it. They both had their problems and seemed to have more in common than they realized, yet despite their inability to mingle with others, they didn’t have that problem with one another.

Had it always been that way?

Connor cycled through his memories, reflecting on random moments he never considered noteworthy. In third grade, Evan helped him finish his math worksheet so he wouldn’t miss all of recess for not completing it. In fifth grade, they had assigned seats next to each other in the computer lab, and they devised a simplified Morse code for the answers on multiple-choice tests. In eighth grade, Connor became sullen and everyone avoided him for fear of setting him off, but during an English essay exam his pencil ran out of lead and Evan stealthily passed him one so he wouldn’t fail the final. Last year a jock rammed into him, knocking his book out of his hands, but before he could pick it up someone pressed it into his open palm, a flash of blue melting into the crowd the only clue of the mystery person’s identity.

Jesus. They’d been orbiting each other for years. He didn’t know if their obtuseness was because of idiocy or low self-esteem. Who was he kidding? It was both, he mentally accused, unconsciously speeding up the pace of the pen in frustration.

Connor’s slender fingers riveted Evan as he dexterously rolled and flipped his pen. Everything about him exuded elegance and control, from the way he draped his lanky frame across his chair to the simple act of running a hand through his luscious hair. Evan realized with startling clarity that Connor only lost his cool when people pushed his buttons. The rest of the time he ascribed to a “live and let live” philosophy. And he’d made it apparent, to Evan at least, that the mischievousness he remembered from childhood still existed beneath his prickly exterior. He wasn’t the villainous cliché everyone believed him to be; there were layers under the bad boy facade.

He knew Connor wasn’t completely callous, but he couldn’t explain why the boy’s sudden openness made his palms sweaty. Yet the longer he spent in Connor’s presence, the more he wanted to _know_ him. He didn’t have an actual friend, as Jared constantly reminded him, and though the boy’s interest puzzled him, he wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity to make one. Decision made, he leaned in his seat and propped his cast lightly against his stomach, zoning out the useless introductory lesson.

From his periphery, Connor studied the guy who’d spent most of the class subtly watching him. A thrill coursed through Connor under the heavy weight of bright eyes roving his body, fascinated by the twirl of his pen. If he added a few more flourishes than usual purely for the satisfaction of watching Evan’s breath hitch — well, no one else would ever know.

He wondered if Evan felt the link between them or if he was merely curious about Connor’s motivation for talking to him. An odd thing for both of them, to be sure, having a normal conversation with someone. It stung to realize he couldn’t remember the last time anyone unrelated to him even tried.

A light tap on his desk yanked him out of his head. Evan frowned in concern, erasing Connor’s scowl with a surge of gratitude. Flashing a quick okay sign, he returned to spinning his pen, grinning when Evan scoffed under his breath.

“You’re more twitchy than I am,” he muttered.

“I don’t know about that, Hansen,” he teased, knocking his boot against his desk to assure him he wasn’t serious. Evan smirked wryly, temporarily short-circuiting Connor’s brain. Apparently, he had a thing for a smart-mouth and a cocky attitude. Probably because he was an asshole, and he appreciated someone capable of going toe-to-toe with him.

He didn’t need a cosmic connection to realize he was fucked.

“You sure?” Evan quipped, arching a brow pointedly at the pen flying through his fingers.

Chuckling softly, Connor tapped it against his temple in acknowledgment. “Touché.”

Snickering, Evan refocused his attention on their teacher and Connor pinned those intrigued by their conversation with a withering glare. A few minutes later the bell rang and Connor hovered uncertainly, painfully aware of his lack of social skills and unsure of his next move in securing a friend.

“So, uh, what’s your next class?”

Evan rubbed his neck awkwardly. “Oh, um, Composition.”

Connor followed him out of the room with wide eyes. “Isn’t that a dual credit class?” Evan nodded crisply and Connor whistled low in amazement. “Shit, that’s pretty badass, dude.”

“Thanks,” Evan replied, biting his cheek in embarrassment at the compliment.

“You like writing?” Connor prodded.

Clearing his throat, Evan said, “Yeah. All the words that get trapped in my head and won’t come out, flow better on paper. I’m sorry, that sounds stupid —”

“No, it doesn’t,” he interrupted. “It makes sense, actually. It’s cool that you have an outlet.”

Something in Connor’s tone struck an unsettling chord in him. Slowing his pace, he tilted his head and asked, “Do you have one? An outlet, I mean.”

Normally a question so personal would’ve pissed him off, but Connor knew Evan wasn’t trying to get under his skin. He was genuinely interested, maybe even a little worried if his furrowed brow was any indication, and it soothed the bristling rage coiled behind his ribs.

“Yeah, I do. I like art. Sketching and painting, mostly,” he admitted.

He steeled himself for the derision he’d come to expect from Larry for the time he wasted on creative pursuits, but it never came. Instead, Evan grinned, reminding Connor of the flower from three weeks ago that pulled him from the jaws of despair. The megawatt smile multiplied the elation from the yellow bloom by a thousand. No matter how beautiful the flower had been, it had nothing on the radiance shining from his sky blue eyes.

It floored him that he — Connor Murphy, resident psycho — could make someone so astoundingly happy. Not just anyone, either. His soulmate.

There was no question he’d do pretty much anything to see that brilliant smile every day, too. It was slightly terrifying how much power this boy already had over him, but it also warmed his heart to see how easily Evan’s walls crumbled with him. That reason alone was worth whatever ridiculous or sappy shit he said to bask in the glow of Evan’s happiness.

“Wow! That’s so cool,” Evan exclaimed. “I can’t do anything like that. I’ve tried, but it’s not for me. I love seeing other people’s work, though.”

Stopping outside Evan’s last class, Connor twisted his messenger strap and blurted, “I could show you mine sometime. I mean, if you want.”

Evan’s mouth rounded in surprise. He knew what a leap of faith it was to reveal the hidden parts of yourself to others. That Connor trusted him to extend the offer meant more than he could express. Watching the other teen bite his lip and shuffle his boots nervously along the floor reminded Evan of seven-year-old Connor’s fear of rejection. And in a repeat of second-grade, he was determined to make the scared boy feel secure.

“I’d like that, but only if you want to share,” Evan said.

“Yeah, I do,” he said, surprising himself with the sincerity in the statement. Taking a Sharpie out of his bag, he pointed to Evan’s cast. “Can I sign it?”

Nodding in a daze, Evan reminded himself to breathe as Connor moved closer. He was hyper-aware of the heady cologne wafting in the scant space between them as his sort-of-friend carefully propped up his arm and claimed the white space with his name. Bold block letters ran from elbow to wrist and he swallowed hard as Connor recapped the marker with his perfectly straight teeth, sparkling ocean eyes holding his stunned gaze.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

The corner of Connor’s mouth quirked in amusement. “See you after?” he asked as he stepped back.

“Yeah” Evan replied, cheeks heating under Connor’s stare when he made no move to enter his class. Barking a laugh, Connor shot him a jaunty two-finger salute before spinning on his heel and heading downstairs.

Leaning briefly against the cool brick wall, Evan shakily exhaled. “Oh my God,” he whispered.

The answer to his earlier confusion in history knocked the air out of his lungs. He had a goddamn crush on Connor Murphy. He was so screwed.

* * *

Taking his usual seat, Connor tossed Evan a package of Cheetos while Zoe and Alana discussed what they were wearing to the Homecoming dance next week. Jared groaned dramatically, causing everyone to roll their eyes.

“Why are we even talking about this?” Kleinman griped as he pushed his soggy green beans across his tray.

“Because it's your last year and we’re all going together!” Zoe said, punching him lightly in the arm. “C’mon, it’ll be fun,” she insisted. Jared narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but she batted her lashes and he threw up his hands in defeat.

“Oh my fucking… _fine_ , woman. I will go, but I’m not dressing up,” he argued.

Scooting closer, she purred, “You don’t want to match your shirt to my dress, Jare?”

Connor snorted as his sister expertly manipulated her boyfriend into her ideal vision of the dance. He wasn’t sure how it happened or even how their relationship worked, but she was happy and Jared had calmed considerably. Evan smirked behind his chips and shared a bemused glance with Connor.

Alana turned to them while Zoe and Jared brokered the terms of their date. “You two are coming, right?” she asked.

“Uh…”

“I mean...”

Zoe rounded on Connor in a huff. “Yes, you are. It’s my last opportunity to do fun shit with you before you leave.” Pointing to Evan, she demanded, “You’re coming, too, to make sure Connor does. He’ll go if you do.”

Connor thumped Evan on the back when he choked on a chip, ogling her across the table in horror. Connor’s eye twitched minutely and his heart sank in response to Evan’s reaction, but he smothered the pain. At some point he needed to tell Evan they were soulmates. He just hoped their relationship wouldn’t remain strictly platonic because he wanted so much more than friendship.

“I don’t think —”

Clearing his throat, Connor interjected. “I think it will be fun.”

Evan swung to face him with wide eyes. “You do?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s senior year, right? We only get one more shot to do all this shit. We might as well,” he reasoned with a lazy shrug, hoping it masked his nerves.

“That’s… true,” Evan conceded.

Zoe squealed and clapped her hands. “So, you’re both coming?”

Chuffing a weak laugh, Evan raked his recently freed hand through his short hair. “Seems that way.”

“Thank you,” Jared sighed gratefully. “Don’t leave me alone with these two, I beg you.”

Reaching around Zoe, Alana smacked Jared upside the head. “Oh shut up, you big baby. You know you love us.” Jared’s sarcasm vanished as he peeked at Zoe’s blushing face. Lacing their hands together, he whispered in her ear, forcing Connor to lower his gaze at the intimacy.

“They’re good together,” Evan murmured, intently staring at his lap.

“Surprisingly,” Connor agreed. “My biggest concern is Kleinman ending up as my brother-in-law,” he joked.

Snorting into his hand, Evan’s eyes twinkled mischievously when they met his. “Oh my God, you’d be Uncle Connor to a bunch of Kleinman's.”

Gasping in horrified realization, Connor shoved him teasingly. “Fuck you! Take that back right now!” Evan burst into a fit of laughter and shook his head. “Jesus Christ, I’m gonna have nightmares, now. This conversation has traumatized me,” Connor lamented.

Wiping the tears from his cheeks, Evan smirked and grabbed his bag. “C’mon, bell’s gonna ring and I want to beat the crowd.”

Tossing his strap over his chest with a nod, Connor waved bye to their friends, matching his steps to Evan’s shorter stride. Clearing his throat as they exited the cafeteria, he asked, “Hey, you’re okay with going to Homecoming, right? I, uh, don’t want you to feel like you have to go. I can always tell Zoe to fuck off if you’d rather not —”

Evan laid a hand on his arm with a fond smile. “You’re rambling. I thought that was my thing?” Connor chuckled as his cheeks warmed in embarrassment. “I want to go. I just didn’t think you would since it goes against your aesthetic.”

“You’re on a roll today, Hansen. You’re practically giving Kleinman a run for his money.”

Dropping his hand, Evan rolled his eyes. “Shut up. You like that I’m a secret smart ass.” Before Connor could reply with something stupid, like of course, he did because he was in love with him, another voice interrupted.

“My, my, my. No wonder you’ve claimed the pretty boy, Murphy. I had wondered since you’re a ‘one and done’ sorta guy, but that _mouth_ explains so much. Bet he begs pretty on his knees, too.”

Evan wheezed in distress next to him, instantly raising Connor’s hackles. His vision turned red as he shot forward and grabbed the boy’s shirt with both hands to slam him against the lockers.

“You forget who you’re talking to,” he growled dangerously. “Everyone knows I don’t play games. Want to know why?” The boy clenched his jaw in defiance and Connor smirked as he whispered in his ear. “Because I don’t play well with others, Brandon.”

The teen’s eyes flicked over his shoulder to Evan and Connor grit his teeth, shoving him against the metal to redirect his attention.

“Don’t speak to either of us again or I’ll wipe the floor with your face. Though, it might be an improvement on that eyesore in the middle of it.” Brandon swung his fist at the taunt, but Connor’s reflexes were honed from years of defending himself. He might be wiry, but he wasn’t weak. Easily catching the punch, he pinned the other teen’s hands on either side of his body.

“Listen carefully, because I won’t repeat myself,” Connor demanded. “I will _never_ fuck you, no matter how much you want me to, but I _will_ fuck you up if you come near either of us again. Understand?”

Brandon’s eyes flashed angrily, but he nodded and Connor released him. Taking a small step back, he paused in consideration before plowing his fist without warning into Brandon’s gut. He doubled over with a gasp and Connor yanked his hair, twisting his head around to glare fiercely down at him.

“Don’t forget it,” he threatened. Scoffing in disgust, Connor turned and snagged Evan’s wrist, dragging him through the stupefied onlookers toward the exit.

“Connor —” Evan croaked.

“We’re leaving, Evan. I’m done with school today,” Connor ground through clenched teeth.

His body thrummed with adrenaline, overwhelmed by a restless desire to pound Brandon’s face into a pulp for exposing him. If he didn’t leave, he’d give in to the impulse. Christ, he never intended for Evan to learn from someone else that he’d screwed his way through half the goddamn school. He’d been waiting for the right time to break the news. Though he doubted there was a good time to tell his soulmate (who still believed they were friends) that he used to fuck anything on two legs as one of his coping mechanisms.

“Yeah, I know. That’s fine, but…” Evan trailed off unsteadily and Connor finally looked at him. Tear tracks marked his swollen features, and he shook so violently it was a wonder he could speak without biting through his tongue. Guilt knocked Connor’s anger loose as he threaded their hands together.

“Fuck, Evan. Yeah, of course,” Connor said, his tone soft and caring as he steered them into an empty restroom and flicked the lock. Evan instantly burrowed into his chest, clinging desperately to him as he sobbed. Wrapping his arms tightly around the distraught boy, Connor sagged in shame, tastebuds souring as he forced his lunch to stay where it belonged.

He did this. The revelation of his messy past wounded Evan in the present, and he didn’t think he’d forgive himself for destroying the last vestige of innocence his friend believed he retained.

Comforted by the familiar smell of cologne and earthy weed Evan’s tears slowed, but his heart ached as he replayed the incident. He’d frozen in shock when Connor shoved Brandon, despite the jolt of excitement that coursed through him as his best friend leapt to his defense. But he couldn’t forget the way their bodies pressed intimately flush or the hungry leer on Brandon’s face at the proximity. He couldn’t hear the full conversation, but he heard enough to make him nauseous. Brandon _wanted_ Connor who apparently had a reputation as a player.

He should have guessed Connor wasn’t a virgin. Why would he be? He was gorgeous and oozed sex appeal. Most everyone in the school fucked around. Hell, even Jared no longer had to make up shit about his experience now that he had an actual girlfriend. They weren’t losers like Evan still waiting for their first kiss at seventeen.

Yet the things Brandon assumed about them were things Evan could never admit he wanted with Connor. Not only was Connor totally out of his league, but they were friends. Best friends. Which was all they’d ever be because he could have his pick of anyone he wanted. Someone good looking who had their shit together. Someone who wasn’t a stammering nuisance currently having an existential crisis in a public restroom.

It was stupid to hope for more with Connor. Evan should be grateful he had him at all. Pulling out of the embrace, Evan hastily wiped his face, keeping his eyes resolutely on the floor.

“We should go,” he murmured, unlocking the door and holding it open.

Pressing his mouth into a thin line, Connor swept out of the restroom with Evan trailing behind in silence. Zigzagging through the parking lot, they found Connor’s car and collapsed wearily inside.

“Orchard?” Connor asked, voice thick with repressed emotion. Evan nodded listlessly, resting his forehead against the cool window as Connor drove. The tension between them grated, rubbing their nerves raw, leaving them painfully exposed by the time they arrived at the deserted property.

On autopilot they exited the car and hopped the fence, weaving through the overgrown meadows turning brown as autumn drew to a close. By wordless agreement, they settled under their favorite tree, though with more space between them than usual. Evan’s skull tapped the trunk as he shut his eyes with a heavy sigh.

“Mind if I smoke?” Connor asked dully. Evan lolled his head across the bark and moments later he heard the flick of the lighter and the singe of the rolling paper as it met the flame. Connor inhaled deeply and held it for an extra beat before releasing the cloud whirling in his lungs, but all Evan could smell were roses.

Connor didn’t savor it like he normally would, requiring the immediate calm the weed offered to soothe his rattled nerves. With each drag, tension seeped out of him, blunting his emotions from daggers into butter knives. Finally relaxed, Connor rubbed out the joint stub and sprawled on the cold ground, staring into the apple laden branches above them.

“If one of those falls on my head, will that make me Newton?” he asked without preamble.

Evan huffed weakly, lashes fluttering against his cheek when he rolled his eyes behind his lids. “You’re high,” he stated blandly.

“No,” Connor protested. “I’m pleasantly buzzed and no longer feel like murdering obnoxious assholes.”

“Well, that’s something, at least,” Evan said without inflection, his nails creating half-moons in his palms as he struggled to maintain his apathy.

An uncomfortable hush descended, crackling between them like the electric charge preceding a lightning strike. Dark and eerie, it skittered along their skin in an eruption of goosebumps, setting their teeth on edge.

Clearing his throat, Connor murmured, “We should talk about it.”

“Nothing to talk about. Everything’s fine,” Evan replied in a monotone.

Sitting up with a frustrated groan, Connor raked his fingers angrily through his hair. “It is _not_ fucking fine, Evan! Jesus, you won’t even look at me, for fuck’s sake!”

Evan opened his eyes with a frown as Connor’s voice cracked. Chuckling bitterly, Connor shook his head, his gaze shifting aside instantly. Evan watched his Adam’s apple bob rhythmically when he swallowed a few times, obviously planning his words carefully.

“There are things you need to know about me. Things I should have told you sooner, but I didn’t know how.” Pulling up his knees, Connor hung his head between them. “Fuck, I still don’t know how,” he mumbled.

Breathing deeply, Evan mentally prepared himself to support his friend. They’d had conversations like this before, and neither of them had run for the hills yet. Despite how uncomfortable the subject might be for Evan, he wasn’t about to abandon his friend after everything.

“I’m listening. Whatever it is, Connor, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered.

“You say that, but you don’t know for a fact,” Connor said.

“Is it about what-what Brandon said?” Evan asked hesitantly, wincing with the reappearance of his nervous stutter.

“Partly,” Connor replied, scuffing the toes of his boots anxiously in the dirt. “I didn’t want you to know how I used to numb myself. For years, Larry didn’t believe therapy or meds helped me because, y’know, they take _time_ to become effective. So for a while, there was a super unhealthy cycle of getting professional help and Larry yanking me out too soon. Which would send me off the rails into self-medicating with alcohol, drugs, and... sex.”

Evan grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly, eyes shining with tears as he brushed aside Connor’s, startling him with the discovery that he was crying. “I just needed it to stop, y’know? To stop the voices in my head telling me I was worthless, that everyone hated me, that I’d be better off dead. And since Larry wouldn’t —”

He gasped desperately, pleading Evan with frantic eyes to understand without saying the words. Tucking Connor’s head against his chest, he hugged him as his heart-rending sobs shuddered through both of them.

“I’m so sorry! So fucking sorry, Evan. I didn’t want you to hate me or be disgusted by what I did. I’m disgusted with myself. I wish I could take it all back. You deserve so much better than a fuck up like me,” Connor whispered.

Shushing him gently, Evan rubbed soothing patterns along his back, his mind swimming with images of a self-destructive teen begging for someone to care. In the absence of affection and support, he sought methods of filling the gaping hole in his heart. Purposefully seeking risky and fleeting things after a life of conditioning taught him to latch onto the quick highs before they were gone.

Poor Connor. Ten years later and he was still the same little boy subsumed with guilt over his mistakes, hoping for gentleness and empathy, yet fully expecting a tongue-lashing.

Burying his face in his dark curls, Evan pulled him closer, uncaring that his friend was practically in his lap. He wanted Connor to understand that there was one person he could always trust to give him what he needed; to know in his _bones_ that he could count on Evan. Even if it meant being friend-zoned for the rest of his life, he would never dismiss Connor’s feelings or turn him away when he needed support. He refused to be another Larry in Connor’s life.

Once his gasps gave way to hiccups, Evan whispered, “I could never hate you, Connor, and I don’t think you’re disgusting. I think you were lost and scared, and you looked for acceptance in the wrong places, but that doesn’t make you a bad person. Your past is past and you aren’t that person anymore.” Connor shook his head vehemently, white-knuckling Evan’s polo with a strangled whimper.

“Okay, then,” Evan said calmly, working his hands along Connor’s spine to loosen the tense knots. The boy in his arms melted into the touch, resting all of his weight against him, sniffling and shivering in the aftermath of his breakdown.

Evan wasn’t naïve enough to believe they had a normal friendship. They were high-strung people with a history of not handling their problems healthily, and neither of them had experience with a genuine friendship until a couple of months ago. Within a week of becoming friends, they were inseparable — oddly intuitive to one another’s moods and balancing each other out. In no time they bared their darkest selves to each other, trusting their secrets would always be safe.

But it was more than that. They were weirdly affectionate, more than he’d ever been tempted to be during a decade of family friendship with Jared. Hugs and holding hands quickly strayed outside of the grounding parameters of panic attacks. And while they joked their tactile nature was because they were touch-starved, it ran deeper for Evan. Sometimes the impulse to touch Connor was so strong it bordered on painful, but the slightest brush of their fingers was enough to soothe the ache.

Time passed differently in the orchard. The world seemed to slow around them, shifting their center of gravity to one another. Maybe it was the undisturbed quiet or the distance separating them from their problems in the city when they were here. But because of the disruption of the space-time continuum, there was no way to gauge how long Connor sat accordioned in Evan’s lap while he caressed him like he had a right to.

Bile climbed up his esophagus when he realized he was taking advantage of Connor’s vulnerability. Connor was emotionally fragile at the moment, and this crossed a line into one of Evan’s fantasies that would never come true. He didn’t want to be like Brandon, lusting after his best friend like a pervert.

Dropping his hands, Evan whispered, “Feel better?”

Connor nodded with a relaxed hum, unwinding from the embrace like a drunk sloth - slowly and with zero coordination. Evan suppressed a grin as his long limbs stretched out, his face the last part to emerge. Frowning slightly, he pawed Evan’s neck with his hoodie sleeve, mumbling an apology as he plopped alongside him on the ground. Groaning softly, he rubbed his temples with a grimace.

“Fuck, I hate crying,” he muttered.

Chuckling weakly, Evan bumped their shoulders in solidarity. “Yeah, it sucks. I have Tylenol in my bag, though.”

“Thanks,” Connor smiled. Closing his eyes with a sigh, he leaned against the tree. “Give me a minute and we’ll head back to the car. I’ll fall over if I try to stand up now.”

“No rush,” Evan said.

Mindlessly picking off his nail polish, Connor debated how to bring up the soulmate conversation. He couldn’t keep pretending Evan was only a friend. Jesus, he wanted _everything_ with him. He wanted hugs and kisses and whatever fucking magic lived in Evan’s hands to pair with the conversations they shared in a single glance across a room. He needed Evan like he needed oxygen, and he’d be damned if he went another day without him knowing how important he was.

If he’d known years ago what he knew now, he wouldn’t have done the things he did. But he couldn’t erase the nights he nearly drank himself blind and woke up naked in an unfamiliar house or the time he was so high he wrapped his car around a tree. He couldn’t forget the sting of the blade against his skin or the pain in his gut when he swallowed a bottle of Cynthia’s sleeping pills, waking up in the hospital to Larry calling his attempt “attention-seeking” and refusing psychiatric treatment.

Most of all though, he knew after unloading his hefty baggage Evan’s anxiety would assume Connor simply wanted to fuck the “pretty boy” and forget him. Goddamn Brandon. He shouldn’t have to convince his soulmate he was hopelessly in love with him, for fuck’s sake.

He knew Evan deserved so much better than him: a professional stoner and former alcoholic with a history of mental instability. He couldn’t offer him anything worthwhile, but that didn’t stop Connor from selfishly loving every jittery, nerdy part of him with every jagged piece of his soul.

Christ, what a mess.

Evan watched his friend chip off the black polish in strained silence until Connor ripped a hangnail into his cuticle with a hiss. Clicking his tongue in admonishment, Evan threaded their hands together to halt Connor’s agitated picking.

“Stop it,” he said in exasperation. “Now you’re bleeding…” His words died as the telltale itch under his skin revealed a tulip to match the ruby droplets welling around Connor’s ring finger.

His eyes snapped up to find Connor’s already boring into him - guileless and tender. Evan leaned closer, their faces inches apart and whispered, “Is it true? It’s really you? Please tell me it’s you.”

“It’s you, Evan,” he replied breathlessly, floored by his easy acceptance. “It’s always been you.”

“Thank fuck,” Evan said, closing the distance between them to press his lips against the only person he ever wanted to kiss as long as he lived.

Cupping his neck, Connor skillfully adjusted the angle and kissed him like he’d waited centuries for Evan’s touch. Mimicking his actions, Evan instantly granted permission when Connor’s tongue skimmed his bottom lip, moaning deep in his chest as Connor claimed his mouth. Nipping his lip gingerly, Connor growled his name and hoisted him into his lap. Wrapping his arms around Connor’s neck, Evan buried his hands in the luscious waves he adored but stopped when the flower hindered his progress.

Pulling away with a shaky breath, he plucked it carefully, his gaze finding Connor’s as though magnetized. Twirling the flower, Evan arched a questioning brow.

“How long have you known?”

“Since the first day of school,” Connor confessed with a blush.

Tilting his head slightly, Evan frowned. “Two months? But how?”

A hand slid from his shoulders to his arm, barely grazing the scar curving along his elbow. Evan shivered despite the heat radiating from Connor’s fingertips as phantom pain throbbed in the healed bone.

“It woke me up,” Connor croaked, staring at the pink line with dark, unfocused eyes. “I was taking a nap, but the pain woke me up.” Evan gasped when he realized what he meant, but didn’t interrupt as he continued in a detached tone.

“I knew it wasn’t an accident when I saw the flowers. Scarlet sweet peas. You were saying goodbye before we even met and it broke my heart. I had to make sure you were alive, so I…”

Barely suppressing the sympathetic noise of distress lodged in his vocal cords, Evan banished the memories of chrysanthemums, poppies, and morning glories that carpeted his arms over the years. Cupping Connor’s face, Evan forced him to hold his gaze and smiled reassuringly through the tears trickling across his cheeks.

“You sent me primroses, Connor,” he said. “You sent me a message I believed and clung to in my darkest moments. My nurse put them by my bed. They were the last thing I saw before they wheeled me in for surgery and the first thing I saw when I woke up.”

Pressing their foreheads together, Connor rubbed a thumb over the top of his hand. “Jonquil. From your IV. That’s how I knew you were alive. I swore then I’d never stop looking for you.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Evan asked, “Did you know what flower I’d get the first day of school?”

Lowering his head to Evan’s shoulder, Connor shook it faintly. “No. I was testing the link to be sure it was you. But as soon as I saw it, I knew it was mine because that’s what I was thinking when I cut my thumb.”

Chuckling softly, Evan nuzzled his neck. “Holy shit, Jared was right. We’re never going to hear the end of it.”

Connor pulled him closer as his snorts quickly grew into loud laughter. “Oh, my God! You know what this means, right? If Jared becomes my brother-in-law that makes him yours, too, _Uncle Evan_.”

“Oh, God, no! Why?” Evan groaned. “Ugh, maybe we’re wrong and they won’t stay together.” Connor sat back to level him with a bored expression, and Evan sighed in defeat. “You’re right, we’d never get that lucky. Fuck, we’re stuck with him, aren’t we?”

Smirking wickedly, Connor said, “Hey, that also means he’s stuck with us. Turnabout is fair play, after all.”

Evan’s expression turned cunning. “Mmm, you’re devious. I love it.”

Sealing their lips together, Connor murmured in his mouth, “Good, because I love you, Evan. You can’t get rid of me if you tried.”

Humming contentedly against his lips, Evan said, “Never gonna try. You’re the only one I want, Connor.” He whimpered faintly as Connor’s intense gaze set his insides ablaze. Connor grinned and reeled him in for another dizzying kiss, and Evan knew he'd happily burn for eternity as long as this boy lit the match.

* * *

Running his hand along his button-down, Evan checked his reflection from all angles in the bathroom mirror. He had to give Connor credit, he knew fashion despite his monochromatic style. With his help, Evan ended up with a pair of fitted gray slacks and a plum shirt which accentuated his muscular arms and thighs in a way he didn’t know clothing could. It startled him to realize the attractive guy with an excited flush on his cheeks was him.

Huh. If this was what Connor saw when he looked at him, he could understand his soulmate’s attraction. Nothing like a wardrobe change to boost his confidence.

A loud knock rang through the house, and Evan flew out of the bathroom. “I’ve got it!” he yelled, but of course, Heidi beat him to it. By the time he reached the entryway, she’d snared Connor in a bear hug. Mouthing an apology to him behind her back, he waved away his concern, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes giving away how little he minded.

“Hi, Mom,” Connor said. Evan doubted the gravity defying lightness that bubbled in his chest when he called her that would ever fade. From the moment they met, Heidi and Connor had a unique connection, but when they told her they were soulmates after their trip to the orchard, she’d instantly adopted Connor.

“Hello, sweetie,” Heidi said. Holding him out for inspection, she exclaimed, “Look at you! So handsome. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear a color that isn’t black or gray.”

Connor laughed, his pale complexion growing rosy with the compliment. “Well, I thought I’d change things up for Evan.” Peeking around Heidi, his black lined eyes sparkled merrily. “Hey, babe. You look… great,” he said, censoring his statement for Heidi’s sake at the last minute.

Shuffling out of the way with a bemused chuckle, she gave them a moment alone. Evan’s mouth dried as he drank in the tailored black slacks and royal blue button-down practically painted on Connor’s lean frame. With his hair in a bun showing off his piercings and the top two buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a swath of ivory past his clavicle, Evan’s brain struggled to formulate a response.

“So do you. You should wear blue more often,” he managed after a charged pause.

Closing the distance between them, Connor pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, whispering urgently in his ear. “We’re going shopping tomorrow because what you’re wearing is fucking killing me in the best way right now, baby.”

Jolts of electricity tingled in the wake of Connor’s touch, forcing him to bite back a moan. “Only if you buy more blue for you. I’m serious. I need to see you in this color at least once a week and pants that tight every day,” Evan insisted, dragging his lips across his throat in retaliation.

Connor’s hands tightened around his boyfriend’s hips with a shiver. “Deal. Jesus, you’re gorgeous. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

Falling easily into Connor’s waiting arms, Evan murmured, “All yours, Connor, and you’re all mine.”

“No one else I want, babe,” he hummed in his artfully tousled hair. “Oh, shit, I almost forgot,” Connor said, leaning out of the embrace. He steadied Evan as he teetered on weak knees with a smirk before releasing him to pull a set of forget-me-not stickers from his pocket. Evan laughed brightly when he recognized the flowers.

“Well, that should get the message across,” he quipped. Connor snickered as he peeled off the back of one and carefully lined it up over Evan’s heart. “Why stickers, though? I thought you said you ordered pins.”

“I was gonna, but then I realized I didn’t want to poke holes in our nice shirts.” He twisted his neck comically to slap the other sticker on himself, but Evan batted his hand away with a snort. Connor watched his expression soften into something so sweet it tied his stomach in knots as Evan centered it with care, his hand lingering over his racing heart as their eyes met.

“Evan,” he whispered. Evan’s mouth wordlessly shaped his name, caressing it with a reverence he felt wholly unworthy of, reminding Connor of the first day of school. But two months ago he couldn’t capture those full lips with his own, and now he could. A fact he didn’t hesitate to take advantage of. It was a quick kiss, meant to tide him over until they were alone, but he was going to die without his soulmate’s mouth on his right that second.

“I love you,” Evan murmured raggedly when they parted.

“I love you more,” Connor smiled. Straightening their shirts, he put a respectable distance between them. “Okay, Mom. It’s safe!” Connor yelled with a wink to Evan.

“You’re sure?” Heidi teased from the kitchen.

Chuckling at his family’s antics, Evan called, “Yes, Mom. Come get your pictures or we’ll leave without them.”

“Impatient, are we?” she joked as she rejoined them, phone in hand.

Rolling his eyes, Evan replied blandly. “No, trying to find a loophole to escape this unnecessary ritual, actually.”

Bursting into laughter in response to Evan’s cheek, Connor tugged him against his side at the base of the stairs. Evan grinned, inordinately pleased with himself every time his commentary unveiled Connor’s lilting laughter.

“C’mon, it won’t take long and then we’ll head out,” Connor promised.

Heidi kept the photography session short, giving them each a tight hug as they left. No sooner had they buckled into Connor’s car than their phones beeped simultaneously. Glancing at one another curiously, they opened the messages to find an unexpected picture. During the staged photos there’d been a moment as Heidi checked to make sure the ones she had weren’t blurry where the boys relaxed and she sneakily captured it.

With eyes closed, Connor tugged Evan against his chest and pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, Evan’s lips curving into a subtle smile. It was achingly sweet; perfectly reflecting the peace they found in one another.

Blinking away their overwhelmed tears, they waved enthusiastically to Heidi hovering in the bay window before pulling out of the driveway. Linking their hands together, Evan set the picture to their lock screens while Connor drove to the school. They arrived at a minor traffic jam of students who also skipped the game, showing up solely for the dance. It took three circles of the parking lot to find a spot, but they weren’t in any rush to join the masses. They opted to remain in the dim interior, lazily making out until Zoe texted to inform them the others were inside.

“You ready?” Connor asked.

Squeezing his fingers lightly, Evan said, “More than. You’re the most important thing to me, Connor. I want everyone to know that.”

“Me, too.” Biting his lip timidly, Connor stared at their joined hands, rubbing a blue painted thumb across Evan’s knuckles. “Y’know, I didn’t know we were soulmates until this year, but I’ve always cared about you. I’ve wanted to be your friend for a long time.”

With his free hand, Evan gently lifted his chin. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Blowing out a nervous breath, Connor said, “Because I’m a coward, but also to protect you. First, from myself because I wasn’t in a good place for a long time and I didn’t want to hurt or scare you. And then from my reputation.”

He smiled in response to Evan’s scoff. “I know that part doesn’t matter much anymore, but in middle school especially it seemed like such a big deal.” Shrugging dismissively, Connor continued, “I just needed you to know that what I feel for you has always been there, but I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Evan’s blush was visible even in the barely illuminated interior, and Connor felt an answering heat spread from his ears down his neck.

“I think I’ve been half in love with you since we were kids, honestly,” Evan said anxiously. “It’s going to sound creepy, but I’ve caught myself wondering about you since we were seven. But _that_ day you were so sad, and all I could think about on the walk to the office was how to make you smile again. You have such a beautiful smile.” Pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, he murmured, “Honestly, you’re beautiful all the time and I’ve always believed that.”

Cupping his face, Connor thumbed his freckled cheeks. “Evan, it’s not creepy, and if it is, then I’m guilty of being a creep, too. I freely admit that I’ve been gone for you since second-grade. I just never thought I could have you.”

“Well, now you always will,” Evan whispered.

Yanking him across the console for a deep kiss, Connor poured his heart into every slide of their lips. An apology for the years of friendship wasted and his messy past, bursting with gratitude that Evan knew everything he’d ever done yet didn’t hate him. But it was love, all-consuming and vibrant, that pulsed in Evan’s blood. Fierce and heady, reflecting his soulmate’s personality, it lit him up from the inside out until he didn’t know where he ended and Connor began.

Evan’s fingertips ran lightly along his covered forearms, and Connor’s automatically traced his elbow in a lazy loop. Separating with difficulty, Evan raised Connor’s wrist and pressed his lips directly over the scar he reopened to send a message of love to a person who, at the time, was still a nameless, faceless entity.

Swallowing the hard lump in his throat at Evan’s veneration, Connor fought the urge to cry. His cynical younger self couldn’t have been more wrong about the idea of soulmates. Or maybe he just hit the fucking jackpot with Evan. It would be the first time in recorded history that his luck held. He might have a reputation as a guy who took risks, but he wasn’t stupid enough to throw away a sure thing. His days of playing roulette with his life were over now that he had a reason to keep breathing.

“I fucking love you,” Connor rasped. Evan’s answering smile was blinding, and he cherished its warmth, letting it chase away the shadows of his past.

“I love you, too. C’mon, we should go inside before Alana sends out a search party,” Evan teased, pressing a parting kiss to his nose.

Laughing in excitement, they ran to the building, linking their hands with a steadying breath before stepping inside. Ignoring the murmurs of the other latecomers, they beelined to the gym and ducked into a corner to scope out their friends.

Connor found them first and led them through the throng to their table. Zoe glanced up, pausing her conversation with Alana as she took in their clasped hands, her wide eyes landing on their stickers at the same time Jared exclaimed, “Holy fucking shit! I called it! I want it on record that I called it!”

Grinning broadly, Jared clapped Evan on the back and playfully punched Connor’s arm. “Congrats, dudes. I’m being real. You guys work weirdly well together.”

Clearing her throat, Zoe blushed under the odd lighting as she snuggled closer to her boyfriend. Smiling nervously, she laid her hand on Jared’s chest, revealing a heliotrope corsage to match the bloom pinned to his shirt.

Connor shot forward, delicately catching her wrist in his hand, staring down at his sister in awe. “Seriously?” he whispered.

She bit her lip and nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “You’re not mad, are you?”

Wrapping her in a tight hug, he chuckled in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me, Zo? I’m happy for you! I know what that feels like and I want that for you. Like, you don’t even know how fucking excited I am that you found your other half. I’m your brother and I’ll always be there for you, but I can’t be everything you need.”

Jerking his chin to Jared as Zoe dabbed her eyes with a napkin to save her mascara, Connor said, “It goes without saying if you hurt her they will never find your body, Kleinman.”

Jared extended his hand and didn’t wince at Connor’s brutal grip. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, but I swear you won’t have to worry about it.” Tugging the taller boy’s hand for emphasis, his brown eyes hardened as he squared his shoulders. “Same goes for Evan. Harm a hair on his head and I will hunt you down, Murphy.”

“I know,” Connor said.

A silent conversation took place during their staredown while the outlying trio watched anxiously. After a few beats of unnatural quiet, they reached a kind of telepathic understanding, matching grins spreading across their faces as they released one another.

“Alright! Fuck this sappy shit. Let’s party!” Jared yelled, dragging Alana on the dance floor while Zoe crushed Evan in a fierce embrace. Chuckling in surprise, he hugged her gently, wary of squishing her.

Popping on her tiptoes, she brushed a feather-light kiss along his cheek. “Welcome to the family, Evan. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for how happy you make my brother, but I think becoming your sister is a suitable reward.”

He dropped a kiss to her crown with an amused huff. “Yeah, I’d say so. I don’t have siblings, but I gained two in one night. I really can’t complain. And I’m really happy for you and Jared.”

She beamed at him, and he smiled in return. There’d been a period when he harbored a fleeting crush on her, but the odd twist of his gut that used to nauseate him made sense now. He’d never felt butterflies around her, and the rush of gentle warmth that filled him when she was near was nothing compared to the explosion of heat he experienced with Connor. The universe always intended for Zoe to be his sister, not his lover, and he was never so thankful he didn’t act on his short-lived infatuation.

“Okay, okay, break it up, you two. You’re both taken, for fuck’s sake! You can continue your gooey familial bonding later,” Connor teased, blue eyes shining at his favorite people.

Glancing at their friends, he announced, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I want to dance.” Grabbing their hands, he dragged them toward Jared and Alana, spinning Zoe expertly to her boyfriend with a melodic laugh. Evan’s mouth fell open in surprise and Zoe giggled over Jared’s shoulder.

“Dance lessons! We took them together as kids,” she explained.

Connor’s hands landed on his hips and Evan asked excitedly, “Teach me?”

Arching a brow, he fought to control his grin. “You want me to?”

“Yeah,” Evan replied, letting Connor shuffle them across the floor. Once they put some space between their friends Evan waved him down, hot air caressing the shell of his ear as he whispered. “How else will I keep from tripping over my feet when we get married if you don’t teach me?”

Connor’s eyes snapped to his as he froze. “Damn it, babe. You do not play fair.”

“Never said I did,” Evan shot back with a smirk.

He sucked in a ragged breath to steady his pounding heart. Dear God, Connor absolutely adored his smart ass mouth. Fucking hell. He needed it against his - _immediately_.

“Noted,” Connor mused as he maneuvered them behind the pull-out bleachers. Snorting in amusement, Evan tried to protest, but Connor shushed him. “Nuh-uh, babe. I want you to repeat what you said so I can taste the words.”

Licking his lips, he murmured, “Which part?”

“You know which part,” Connor growled, rolling his hips against him. Inhaling sharply, Evan grabbed him by the belt loops, grinding in retaliation and relished the hissed curses tumbling from his mouth.

Tilting his face, Evan whispered, “When we get marr—”

He moaned helplessly into the passionate kiss, giving himself completely to his gorgeous boyfriend attempting to meld them into a singular person. In a world of seven billion people, they found one another. No longer lost or making rash decisions out of loneliness and fear. They might be imperfect individuals, but they were perfect together, giving each other hope of a future.

A future that was already shaping up to be pretty damn amazing with Zoe, Jared, and Alana. Friends who became family even before the soulmate couples cinched the deal. For the first time in years, they couldn’t wait to see what it had in store.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Troye Sivan's _Bloom._ I tried to come up with something original, but this stuck. 
> 
> Most explanations found [here](http://thelanguageofflowers.com/)
> 
> Hyacinths (pink) - Play
> 
> Crocus - Cheerfulness
> 
> Daisies - Innocence, purity
> 
> Marigolds - Grief
> 
> Petunia - Anger
> 
> [Ranunculus](https://flowermeanings.org/ranunculus-flower-meaning/#:~:text=Ranunculus%20Flower%20%E2%80%93%20Symbolism&text=The%20ranunculus%20flower%20is%20also,the%20sky%20and%20catching%20them%E2%80%9D%20rel=) \- Carelessness
> 
> Sweet peas - Goodbye, farewell
> 
> Jonquil - Love me, affection returned
> 
> Camellia (white) - You’re adorable [this flower is typically gifted to men]
> 
> Zinnias (mixed) - In memory of an absent friend [colors mimic Evan’s bruised torso after the “fall”] 
> 
> Roses - Love
> 
> Tulip (red) - Declaration of love, believe me
> 
> Chrysanthemums (white) - Death 
> 
> Poppies - Eternal sleep, oblivion
> 
> [Morning Glories](https://florgeous.com/morning-glory-flower-meaning/#:~:text=A%20morning%20glory%20is%20a,represent%20the%20mortality%20of%20life) \- Mortality of love, fleeting nature of affection [these flowers bloom for one night and then die] 
> 
> Primroses - I can’t live without you
> 
> Forget-Me-Not - True love
> 
> [Heliotrope](http://www.perennial-gardens.com/heliotrope/heliotrope.php) \- Eternal love, devotion


End file.
